“I brought some with me,” she said. “In fact it’s the money you sent for my birthday.”
“You mean you haven’t spent it in all these months?” Richard asked.
“Uh uh.”
“Vera lets you spend the money, doesn’t she?” Richard asked.
“Oh, sure,” said Clare. “It’s me. I like to put it away to save up for something.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know,” said Clare. “I guess if I wanted to run away from home, I could buy a plane ticket somewhere. Once when Vera was being especially difficult I made a plan that I’d go out to California and look you up.”
Richard didn’t say anything for a moment. He took in his breath and let it out slowly. Finally he said, “You always would have been welcome, Clare. I don’t know how we would have worked things out with Vera, but I would always have wanted to have you. But you had no way of knowing that, did you?”
“No,” said Clare.
***
The tide was just beginning to rise so they waded out to the boat in shallow water and climbed up the swim ladder to get aboard. Kip reached out to help Clare step over the backseat and onto the deck, and she was so stunned by the fact that he had actually held her hand in his she forgot to say thank you until it was too late. She followed Jaylin up to the front of the boat and they settled on the wide seat that was built into the bow.
Kip helped Mark lug a cooler onto the boat and get the canvas covers stowed away in the compartments under the seats. Mark lowered the engine and started warming the motor.
“Aren’t we waiting for your dad?” Clare asked.
“Oh, my dad’s not coming. He’s working on something.”
“And your mom?” Clare asked.
“Mom? She won’t step foot on a boat. She gets seasick just looking at one.”
“Can Mark run the boat by himself?”
“Sure,” said Jaylin. “Probably better than my dad. Dad’s always getting new toys, but he never learns how to use them. He got a sailboat last year and took it out once and it capsized and we had to get the marine company to tow it back in.”
Clare watched Mark who was sitting at the seat with all the dials. He did seem to know what he was doing. Still, when Richard, in deference to Vera, had asked her where she was going and with whom, she had said, “Jaylin’s family,” which had implied parents, hadn’t it? Above all, she didn’t want Richard to get into trouble with Vera.
Kip pulled up the swim ladder and then made his way to the front of the boat. He kneeled right next to Clare, so close the side of his leg pressed against hers. She leaned to the side so he could get access to the ropes and untie Breaking Point from the mooring.
“Can I help?” she asked.
“I’m good,” he said.
His swim shorts pulled down a little on the side, exposing a half inch of not-yet-suntanned skin. If she touched him there she could cover the thin white crescent with her forefinger.
“All set?” Mark called.
“Ready to roll,” said Kip, and he went back and took the other seat in the center of the boat.
There was a pile of life jackets on the seats across from Jaylin and Clare, and Jaylin took two for them to use for backrests.
“Don’t we have to put these on?” Clare asked.
“Only if you’re going to be waterskiing or something,” said Jaylin. “This boat is absolutely safe. It will float even if it hits an iceberg and gets a huge hole in its hull.”
“I thought it was required to wear life jackets in boats,” said Clare.
“Lord, you do worry about everything, don’t you?” asked Jaylin.
“I don’t know that I do, but my mother does,” said Clare.
“Thank goodness she’s not with us, then,” said Jaylin. “Hey, have you ever been to P-Town before?” she asked.
Clare shook her head.
“Just wait! It’s the wildest scene in the world. The streets are packed with the weirdest people you’ve ever seen. Last time there was a drag queen all in pink feathers. I’m not kidding you.”
“Hey remember those guys in chaps with their hairy naked butts?” shouted Mark. Clare was surprised he had been able to hear their conversation over the noise of the engine.
“Don’t scare her,” said Jaylin to Mark. “That was at night,” she said to Clare. “I don’t think they parade around like that during the day.”
Mark maneuvered Breaking Point out between the other boats moored on the side of the island. As soon as they were out in open water, he pulled the throttle way down and the boat took off, its bow rising up at such an angle that the life jackets flew off the seat and Clare gripped onto the railing to keep from sliding off. She didn’t say a single word, but Jaylin saw the look on her face and said, “Don’t worry, once we start planing we’ll level off.” They did level off, the boat rising high above the water so it seemed to be flying low over its surface. Each time they hit a wave, water sprayed up onto them. Clare was relieved when Jaylin suggested they sit on the seats that faced forwards. She got less wet, and she was able to brace her feet against the front seat.
Clare thought she had never been on anything so fast in her life, not even Peter’s motorcycle. In a few minutes they covered all the distance that had taken her and Richard nearly half an hour to do by kayak. She wasn’t so frightened anymore now that the boat was more level. The bay seemed huge and glorious, and she felt a kind of exhilaration which she couldn’t imagine she’d ever feel in a kayak. It seemed like a betrayal, though, of Richard. Richard, who saw speedboats as the enemies of his terrapins, who had contempt for the kind of people who owned them.
Clare leaned around to look at the view behind her. Blackfish Island was in the distance, growing smaller and smaller, by the second. Soon the big houses, like Jaylin’s, along the top of the dunes grew indistinct, and the island itself melted into a low, dark shape. Suddenly the wind caught the edge of Clare’s visor. She couldn’t grab it in time, and it flew off her head and in a second it was gone. Jaylin shouted to Mark to stop the boat. He cut the engine.
“You want me to go back for a stupid visor?” he asked.
“It’s OK,” said Clare. “It’s not like it’s that valuable or anything.”
“I see it,” said Jaylin, pointing. “It’s floating right there.”
“I thought we were going to Provincetown,” said Mark.
“Come on, Mark,” said Kip. “Give her a break. Circle around and I’ll grab it with the boat hook.” Mark reluctantly turned the boat around and after three passes Kip was able to snag the waterlogged visor and bring it on board. He held it out to Clare. It was a dripping, white thing.
“Catch of the day,” he said.
Clare lifted the sodden visor from the hook. The proper response would have been to say something about a gallant knight, but that was too big a risk. It was simpler to just say, “Thank you.” And then, to show that she was a good sport, she squeezed out some of the water and put the visor back on her head. “It’s a lot cooler this way,” she said.
Jaylin smiled appreciatively, and looked over at Mark and gave a little nod to show her approval—a communication between siblings.
They crossed the protected inner bay and reached the sandy strip of land coming out from the mainland which separated the harbor from the open water of Cape Cod Bay. Mark chose to cross over in a shallow channel rather than go all the way to the end, the long way around.
“You’re supposed to go around the point,” said Jaylin. “It’s too shallow here.”
“What do you know?” asked Mark.
“I can read the chart.”
“Well, good for you,” said Mark.
“Go ahead, then,” said Jaylin, “and when you wreck the boat you can’t say I didn’t warn you. And I’ve got witnesses to prove it. Right, Clare?”
Clare didn’t know what to say, so she just nodded.
“Right, Kip?” asked Jaylin.
Kip held up his hands.
“Hey, I’m staying out of this,” he said.
Mark raised the engine halfway, and then steered the boat over the sandbar. Clare thought it looked like it was only a foot deep, but surely it had to be deeper than that. On the open bay side there was a wind, and at this spot, where the tide was coming up, there were large, black waves. The boat bucked and shook, and the bow rose so high it seemed the boat would flip over, then came crashing down. Waves broke over the bow. Clare clutched the metal rail. Even Jaylin looked frightened.
When they made it through the rough patch of water and then leveled off, Mark, exuberant, gave a whoop. Clare thought he had probably been frightened, too. “Hey, that was fun,” he said. “Let’s try it again!”
“Don’t be an asshole,” said Jaylin.
“I thought you wanted to get to P-Town,” said Kip, and Clare looked at him with gratitude.
Mark either gave in, or he was just kidding. He grabbed a can of beer from the cooler and tossed one to Kip. Jaylin didn’t saying anything about them drinking beer. “Hand us some sodas,” she said.
“Get them yourself,” said Mark. Jaylin dug out two sodas and handed one to Clare. The last thing Clare wanted was a stomach full of soda, but she took it from Jaylin’s hand. She didn’t have to drink it.
Mark, emboldened by his success with the channel, and perhaps by the beer as well, drove the boat fast and wildly all the way to Provincetown, every so often circling back so they would go through their own wake. Mark and Kip had another beer each, and soon Kip was whooping with Mark each time they slammed through the waves.
Each time, Clare clutched the metal railing and prayed they’d get through all right. By the time they got to Provincetown she was nauseated and the muscle in her hand ached.
From the waterside, Provincetown looked like a seaside village in a stage set. They came in around a jetty and Mark managed, somehow, to navigate among the other boats and pull in close to the town landing. It took him several tries before he was able to get the boat anchored.
Clare had brought a plastic bag to carry her things, as Jaylin had advised, and she lowered herself carefully down the swim ladder and held the bag on her head as she waded to shore. There was a small public beach area, where Clare pulled shorts and a shirt on over her bathing suit, and just beyond was Commercial Street, so jammed with pedestrians that the few cars that dared to drive along it could barely get through.
“Let’s go get some lunch,” said Jaylin.
“Sounds good,” said Mark.
It was strange walking along wearing aqua shoes. They made squelching noises with each step. As they made their way along Commercial Street Jaylin darted into shops to look at clothes. She didn’t seem concerned that her feet were wet, even in stores where the clothing was so expensive even Vera wouldn’t shop there. The street was a carnival with packs of gawking tourists. There were more outlandish getups than Clare had ever seen, and one drag queen with a platinum blonde wig.
Mark and Kip were walking ahead, with Clare and Jaylin just behind, when they passed close by two perfectly ordinary men, who were holding hands. Not quite out of earshot, Mark turned back to Jaylin and said, “Ew! Did you see those fags?”
Fags. The word struck Clare as if it were an actual object someone had thrown at her, not just a sound in the air. It was a word that her friends would never use, and in the past she would have been startled if she heard someone say it. But now it was different. It wasn’t just an offending word; it was about her father. It was about her. Everything was different now.
Mark held his hands out, like a limp ballerina, and wriggled his rear end. He laughed out loud and bumped his hip against Kip’s. Kip laughed, too, and swiveled his hips. They turned around for Jaylin and Clare’s benefit. Jaylin joined them laughing.
Clare didn’t laugh, but she didn’t say anything either. The whole thing made her feel sick. It wasn’t just Mark making fun of the men—it was Kip, too. Kip whom she had liked so much—and it was Jaylin laughing with them. But it was more than what they were doing. It was that she didn’t have the courage to say anything about it.
The restaurant they went to for lunch overlooked the harbor, but even the view of the glimmering water and the boats bobbing pleasantly didn’t get the image out of Clare’s head of those two men and Mark’s mocking them.
“If you keep your menu open like that,” said Jaylin, “the waiter won’t know we’re ready to order.”
Clare had been holding her menu without really looking at it. She glanced at it quickly. The sandwiches all had names, and the cheapest one was ten dollars. She didn’t feel like eating anything, but Jaylin was looking at her impatiently, so she ordered the Shank Painter Pita. When the waiter had turned his back on them, Mark waggled his fingers in the air and he and Kip collapsed against each other, laughing. Clare watched the waiter as he headed off towards the back of the restaurant and pushed through the swinging door to the kitchen. He was a thin young man, but there wasn’t anything particular about him that made him identifiable as gay. What was it that made Mark think he was? Would he think that Richard was gay just by looking at him? Clare looked down at the pine table. It was varnished so thickly she could dig her fingernail into the shine and leave a nick. When she looked up again Mark was staring at her.
“Hey, what’s up with you?” he asked.
“Nothing,” said Clare.
“You look kind of out of it,” said Mark.
“I guess that’s just the way I look,” said Clare. She wanted to tell him what she thought of the way they were acting. But what was the point of it? She wasn’t going to be able to change them. Yet that wasn’t the real reason she didn’t speak up; the real reason was that, somehow, she couldn’t. She just wanted to hide under the table.
“You don’t look as if you’re having a very good time,” said Jaylin. “You’re in P-town. You’re supposed to be having a good time.”
The door to the kitchen swung open again and Clare saw the waiter coming out with a tray with drinks on it. She was afraid it was for them. She got up quickly from the table and told Jaylin she was going to the ladies’ room. She didn’t want to be at the table when the waiter came over to them. She didn’t want to be around in case Mark and Kip did anything. She didn’t want to be around them at all.
The bathroom had pink ceramic tile and a pink ruffled curtain at the window, but there was no glass in the window, just an air conditioner, so Clare couldn’t look outside. On the wall there were two rusty metal dispensers, one for pads and tampons and the other for perfume. There were five choices of perfumes with names like Secrecy and Midnight in Paris. Clare didn’t have a quarter, but she pushed each of the plungers. Nothing came out. There were two toilet stalls and when women came in to use the bathroom Clare pretended she was combing her hair.
Eventually Jaylin came to see if she was all right. “We’re practically finished eating,” she said. “What’s the matter with you?”
“I just don’t feel great,” said Clare. “I think I got too much sun and I got a little seasick coming over.”
“That’s too bad,” said Jaylin. “We’re going to have to leave pretty soon because the tide is starting to go out.”
Clare caught a glimpse of her face in the mirror, right over the sign that said Employees Must Wash their Hands. She did look sunburned.
“Actually,” she said, “I won’t be going back with you.” She hadn’t planned on saying this, but it popped right out.
“What do you mean?” asked Jaylin.
“I’m really sorry,” said Clare, “but I just don’t feel like being on a boat.”
“So how are you going to get back, then?” asked Jaylin.
“I’m going to get my dad to come pick me up,” said Clare. She was amazed at her own audacity. Seeing Jaylin’s surprised face she added, “You’re welcome to drive back with me.”
“Why would I want to do that?” asked Jaylin.
Clare shrugged.
20
Jaylin waved
once at Clare and called out, “See you!” as she, Mark, and Kip headed off back down Commercial Street to the town landing. But Clare doubted they would be seeing each other again. She hadn’t brought her cell phone with her, since they were traveling in an open boat, but she’d seen public telephones near the wharf. As she walked there, she felt less brave, less certain, and by the time she reached the phones, she was beginning to feel terrified. What if she couldn’t get in touch with Richard? Or what if he wasn’t able to come?
Richard didn’t answer the phone. His answering machine picked up after the sixth ring and informed her of the number of the terrapin hotline to report sightings, then clicked right off. She called back again to try to leave a message, but the answering machine cut off immediately after the recording, and she was speaking to a dial tone. It had been reassuring, for a moment, to hear his voice.
Every ten minutes she tried calling him again, hanging up just before the answering machine picked up since she didn’t have much change left. Richard wasn’t expecting her home till late in the afternoon, so there was no reason he should be around the house. He could be on the beach or out in his kayak or even on the other side of the Blackfish Island Bridge. She tried picturing him in different places, as if that was a way to make him real, summon him home. But the scene that she kept returning to in her mind was when Richard had demonstrated how to get back into a kayak after it capsized and he’d been trying to hoist himself up; his hair and beard were soaking wet and his legs were thrashing in the water.
In between calls, Clare took short walks onto the wharf. The ferry from Boston had recently arrived, and an onslaught of people—pulling suitcases and carrying satchels—approached Clare. There were gay couples and straight couples and people on their own who might have been gay or straight. Here, it didn’t seem to matter. Some of the people looked dazed, as if they had been deposited in a foreign country, but some of them had been met by friends or family and Clare looked with envy at these small scenes of happy reconnection. Soon they were all gone, absorbed into the life of Provincetown. The whale-watch boats were all out for the day, and for a time, the wharf was quiet.
Returning to Shore Page 10
